Let's Fold Scarves

I think New Year's resolutions are a bit pointless because they tend to be quickly forgotten but I will make just one and that might be to blog more often. I may even start watching Buffy again.

2011's Hootenanny might have been awful but at least it reminded me of where this blog got its title from. (Though I still prefer "Overhelping" or "F International".)

So, this is a clip from Romy and Michele and is the best "improvised dance" scene in a film ever - no exaggeration...

There is a scene in The Hours where Meryl Streep's Clarissa anxiously discusses the perceived triviality of her life with her daughter and she waves her hands about in a way that is just like Brad Pitt's Jeffrey Goines in Twelve Monkeys. It is odd, distracting and really very funny.

When will I learn that a film about poverty described with such adjectives as chilling, searing, rawest, gritty, genuine, shabby, grimly and unflinching, is not a film for me?

And I'm not sure the poor people of the Ozarks deserve their story to be told through the means of a rather dull mystery story either.

Jennifer Lawrence was superb but since she looks better with an axe:

than all greased up, it's sad she's yet another young actress who didn't say no.

My expectations for this were set too high by the general tone that headed my way via the Internet. It is certainly a lovely simple film for children but really it is no more than that.

It looked gorgeous and full of delightful detail (just like a beautiful picture book) but the story was featherweight (or Spillerweight if you prefer). The motivation for Haru's behaviour wasn't really explained and the characterisation of the mother was borderline ridiculous: I'm surprised she managed to survive to middle age being that useless (and why was she such an old mum? It was like watching an old Hollywood movie when all mothers were grey haired and wrinkled).

For me, the best thing about the film was that the cat turned out to be a bit of a sweetie and not a typical film cat baddie.

This may be the first 18 certificate film I saw at the cinema. I wonder at what cinema I saw it but I can't remember that because it was nearly thirty years ago. It's remarkable just how much I recalled despite not seeing it since. It's clear that the film meant more to me then than it does now, after all I was closer to adolescence way back then, because rewatching it was disappointing. It is very well made, the acting effective, the atmosphere creepy, the effects are great, the dogs/wolves are mostly believeable but the themes just didn't resonate in the same way.

The part that remembered most clearly was the transformation of Stephen Rea's character from man to wolf. It was the most gruesome and repulsive things I had ever seen on screen. And it remains one of the most gruesome and repulsive things I have ever seen too, partly because it scarred me for life and I avoid gore wherever possible, and partly because it is revolting.

Sarah Patterson made two films in the early 80s before she presumably furthered her education. She has appeared in a couple of films in the noughties directed by Lisa Gornick and here she is as a photographer in Tick Tock Lullaby:

I really, really like this film. It's not that it's perfect, far from it: Jerry's sobering up is too neat and his return to Joan comes at a considerable price for her, but the first two thirds of it are tremendous. I found it enthralling, highly dramatic and very involving.

Sylvia Sidney and Fredric March were fantastic. I know there are many others who could have played Joan and Jerry but they would have been hard pushed to be better. I'm sure that a huge chunk of my enjoyment was based on their performances but the supporting cast were also excellent particularly George Irving as Joan's father.

Fredric March was a particular favourite of mine when I was younger which I had all but forgotten until I saw this and remembered how good he was. He comes across as intense but not without humour. He was also very attractive.

Talking of attractive, who could not find Sylvia Sidney totally appealing? I have only seen a handful of her films so I was blown away by her performance: full of depth and emotion. And OK, she was flipping gorgeous - those eyes, that sad face, that smile, and that full figure: gorgeous.

This could never be one of my favourite films - in fact, I'd be happy not to see it again - because essentially it boils down to a character being mentally (and physically) tortured. The writers of the source material, Boileau-Narcejac, also wrote the novel on which Vertigo was based which also has two characters being tortured.

It is brilliantly made but it is all rather heartless (oh, I am clever). What adds an even more macabre aspect to it is the fact that Véra Clouzot died in real life from a heart attack. How horrible is that?